Like So Much Trash
by gallantcorkscrews
Summary: I wish I had a guy friend like Edward," my friends would say. And yeah, they should be jealous of us. Chick friends are amazing- you can talk tampons and side swept bangs with them. But girls don't stick by each other like guys do. Not like Edward does


**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer's characters. I make no money.**

**A/Note: This story is ridiculous. Full of wish fulfillment (later on), clichés, and schmoopy angst. Oh, and it takes place in the deep South.**

We've both been fucking the neighborhood since we were fifteen. One day, we were dweebs stranded in front of the computer, watching _Homestar Runner_ and arguing over which gender sucked the least. Then suddenly, Edward lost the braces. He stopped doing his hair in that stupid center part. I tossed my glasses and squinted my way through life until my aunt brought me to an optometrist years later. Bing bang boom, we were suddenly hot items, and I didn't need to see to fuck.

Edward's mom Elizabeth sat us both down at one point, saying, _"I'm worried about you. You try to experience too much too fast and you'll be burned out and old by the time you're twenty five."_

Edward laughed and asked her if he could have some of her Adderall. We had a paper to write for Civics class.

My girlfriends cooed over our relationship. _"Ohhh, I wish I had a guy friend like that. It must be cool_."

And when they said that, I puffed up like a peacock. Because yeah, chick friends were amazing. You can talk tampons and side swept bangs with them, and they never tell you that you're being _irrational_ (a favorite jibe of Edward's). But girls don't stick by each other like guys do. You throw a handsome guy into a pack of girls, and they'll claw each other apart like they're fighting for the bouquet. Guys will fight over chicks, and then they'll forget all about it a moment later. The day after that they were going fisticuffs in the front lawn, you'll see them in front of the television together, arguing over a game of Mortal Kombat.

They don't throw each other over for anything. The platonic loyalty of a guy is not something to be taken lightly.

Edward and I watched _Brian's Song _together. I've seen him cry once a year since we were ten. We were _that tight._

But not anymore.

* * *

I picked Edward up every Thursday when he got off of work from Dominos. My car was beaten to shit. Edward and I both drove it, and we both had smashed it up in half a dozen car wrecks. The back window was shattered from when I locked my keys inside and Emmett had broken in with a lead pipe. A plastic bag was taped over it now. It bore the logo for _Kinky Reginelli's_, a downtown sex shop, which featured an aquamarine cartoon dildo. Edward thought the store should give us some money or lube for the free advertising they were getting.

The passenger door was smashed in, also, and I worried that if we opened it the door would fall off. Therefore Edward had to slide in through the window head first, and his face screwed up in pain when his dick hit the window ledge.

"What's going on at the house?" he asked, pushing the bangs out of his eyes with back of his hand. He smelt like too much oregano and burnt tomato paste and yeast.

"Emmett and Jasper are over. They ate the rest of the red beans and rice. They said they'd pay you back on if we took 'em for a beer run. Or rather, if _you_ take 'em. Cause I'm not talking to Jasper right now and I refuse to drive him anywhere."

"You're still mad about Jessica-"

"He fucking sang the Grinch song to her. About her."

"He has an abrasive sense of hum-"

_"You have all the tender sweetness/ Of a seasick crocodile/ Ms. Stanleeeeeeeeey...."_

"He's a Weird Al Yankovic fanboy. He sings that stuff more as homage to Al than out of any real spite-"

_"Given the choice between the two of you. I'd fuck the seasick crocodile."_

"Well, that's a little uncalled for."

"And then when she started crying and threatened to leave, he sang _Put One Foot In Front of the Other._" And secretly I was snickering to myself, because _shit_, it was funny at the time. But days had passed, and Jessica still hadn't gotten over it. I couldn't just let it slide.

Edward pursed his lips, his cheeks puffed with suppressed laughter.

When we got home Edward went to tend to his boys. They all left for the beer store with a clamor; Emmett was screaming _We are gonna party like the fucking Vikings tonight,_ and Jasper was beat boxing. I swear, some boys never outlived thirteen.

He banged on the bathroom door once he got back. I was putting on mascara and was so startled by the sudden knocking that my hand jerked and I stuck the lash wand in my eye.

Edward was yelling, "You're beautiful- stop dicking around in there- Emmett needs to take a shit."

Emmett squawked indignantly.

When I came out the boys had gas station muffins and beer assembled on the table in front of us. The TV was on Telemundo, and Jasper was interpreting the dialogue with some artistic license.

He wasn't that witty unless he was twisting Christmas song lyrics: _"Why Javier- the beef fell out of my pita_-"

"Fucking Spanish people don't have _pita_. They have _tortilla,_" Emmett said, stuffing a whole cream cheese muffin into his mouth.

"They're _His_panic, asswipe," Jasper corrected. Then resumed, "_The beef has fallen from my _pita_. I need you to give me your meat or I will go hungry._"

After all the beers had been drunk and the night got too cold for Jasper and Emmett to stand, they bid us farewell and returned to their warm attic rooms at their parents' houses.

"Bella- get up- time for bed." Edward shook my knee.

I was tired and comfortable enough that I wasn't going to leave the couch without a fight.

This was a battle we had nearly every night. I would fall asleep on the couch, and Edward knew that if I slept on it I would be bitching about couch-induced spina bifida in the morning. So every night, he tried to force me up. His methods varied. Some nights he would just badger, others he would hit; once he poured the dregs of old orange juice down my shirt. He was on acid when he had done that. I don't judge him.

"_Bella_," he whined- and then he leaned in and motherfucking_ bit _me on the scalp.

I howled and grabbed at his throat. Finding his Adam's apple, I squeezed the bulb of cartilage between my index and forefinger. He yelped, and then he leaped on top of me, his heavy thighs straddling my waist. He twisted a clump of my hair in his salty smelling hand.

We grappled on the couch for a little longer. Finally, he grabbed my wrists and threw me over his shoulder. He was going to carry me to bed.

He was short. Most of the boys eventually outgrew me, but Edward never had. While I was tall and lean, he was short and thick-strong, built low to the earth like a Celt. He liked throwing me around- _You may be taller than me, but I can still throw you around like a human baton._

He dumped me like a bunch of school books on top of my bed.

"Do you have enough blankets?" he asked. "My mom gave me like seven more today. If you need any."

I shook my head, already feeling my eyes grow heavy. "Sleep with me," I said. "That'll keep the cold away."

It wasn't a sexual overture. I just loved body heat. Besides, Edward smelled like pizza. I could curl up next to him, all warm, and pretend I was dough rising in a Dominoes' oven.

He picked a teddy bear off my night stand. At one time it had been my grandmother's, and it was washed much that the fabric felt coarse like burlap. It was shit for cuddling.

He threw it on top of my head, _"sleep with that"_, and he closed the door behind him, the hinges creaking like a slow choke.

**A/Note: This story will be short. Like four-five chapters. I just don't do well with longass stories.**


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